whistle o'er the lave o't
first when maggie was my care,
heav'n, i thought, was in her air,
now we're married—speir nae mair,
but whistle o'er the lave o't!
meg was meek, and meg was mild,
sweet and harmless as a child—
wiser men than me's beguil'd;
whistle o'er the lave o't!
how we live, my meg and me,
how we love, and how we gree,
i care na by how few may see—
whistle o'er the lave o't!
wha i wish were maggot's meat,
dish'd up in her winding-sheet,
i could write—but meg maun see't—
whistle o'er the lave o't!